Breathless and on again
My head is killing me and has been for the last few days without cease and I feel like crawling into a hole and dying from it, but ZOMG I FINISHED MY STORY LAST NIGHT!!!!! Yeeee this is the first non-fic long thing I've actually finished since my thief story a year and a half ago. En't that crazy??? Took me two months minus a week. Ahhh huzzah.
Oh, God, my head... *winces*
Anyway - I'm going to put up this last section in 2 parts, because it's really long and I don't want to do that to y'all. Eheh. So here's part VI. Enjoy.
Richard didn’t tell Abby about what he and his mother had talked about. He’d never really been the overly-affectionate type in the first place; he couldn’t exactly picture himself just going up to his girlfriend and saying “My mother wants me to come back home to stay, and I used to want to do that too, but I think I’m in love with you and I don’t really know what to do.”
He didn’t think that conversation would end well, for either of them.
So he said nothing, as per the usual, and after another few days of lounging on the beach and tying up loose ends he and Abigayle flew back to Philly. He stayed at her apartment again, sleeping on an air-bed in her living room.
It was a little strange, because he didn’t have school anymore, and since he would (probably) be leaving the city for good he didn’t want to bother getting a job-what sane employer would hire a medical student for a week or two, anyway? Thus while Abby went to work every morning at seven, he would do very little for most of the day after rising early enough to make her coffee and grant her a few extra minutes of sleep. The forced inactivity of his days drove Richard a little batty, and it wasn’t long before he made his decision about what he was going to do.
They were eating dinner at a Japanese restaurant when he broke the news.
“I’m moving back home, Abby,” he announced as she was taking a bite of her yellowtail sashimi.
She put her chopsticks down, very carefully; swallowed, very carefully, and stared at him without batting an eyelash. If he hadn’t known her so well he would perhaps have thought that she had no reaction to his statement at all; only the slight quickening of the pulse at the base of her neck and her hands, wound tightly beneath the table where he theoretically could not see them, gave her game away.
“You are?” she said politely, as if they were discussing a game of golf. “When?”
“Abby, don’t,” he said pleadingly, and reached for her. The muscles in her arms tightened, but she brought one of her hands out from under the tablecloth and put it in his. “Don’t be like that.”
“Like what?” she snapped, suddenly almost angry, but without pulling her hand away. “What do you want me to say?”
“Something more than when, I was hoping,” he retorted-then he sighed. “I don’t want to fight with you, not right now. Would you believe me if I said I didn’t want to go, but I have to?”
“No,” she answered, sullen, looking away. “Then again I guess I shouldn’t have expected anything else of you. You’re always running away as soon as things take on even the slightest bit of seriousness.”
He stared at her. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” She didn’t meet his eyes, but her sulky look had turned to a pinched, defiant expression. “Abigayle, I’ve always meant to go back home after I finished school. I swear I’m not running away from you. If there were any other way I-I wouldn’t go, I mean it. My mother needs me home and I’ve always meant to go back! It has nothing to do with you or running from you. Look-you-”
He stopped, and gauged her expression. The glare had faded somewhat from her features; she was listening even though she still wasn’t looking at him. He took a breath and went on. “You’re what’s making me not want to go at all,” he whispered, rubbing his thumb over her knuckles. “If I didn’t have to go I wouldn’t. Believe me...” He looked at her, hard, willing her to believe him. “Believe me, Abby.”
She finally met his eyes. “Richard,” she said and it ended on a sigh, “I shouldn’t. But I do.” She glanced down at their hands and kept her gaze there. “I don’t want you to go,” she said quietly. “Does that make me a bad person?”
He gripped her hand tighter. “No,” he said emphatically. “No, it doesn’t. Abby, I don’t want this to be an ending of-of us.”
“Long distance relationships never work,” she murmured. “You know that.”
“That isn’t always true,” he said, almost fiercely. “It doesn’t have to be.”
She looked up, her eyes full of sadness. “I don’t want to fight,” she whispered. “When will you be leaving?”
“Next week,” he replied, equally as soft. “Next week as in, in a few days. Monday.” Abby closed her eyes and something in him hurt, a little. More than a little.
But he still couldn’t-still wouldn’t-say “the magic words”.
“Can we go now?” she asked in a small voice without opening her eyes. Richard nodded and let go of her hand to call the waiter over; he paid the bill and they went back to her apartment.
There wasn’t much talking on the way home. As soon as they got back Abby disappeared into her room and shut the door behind her. Richard was left sitting on the couch, feeling useless and helpless and worse than the worst kind of jerk. Finally he got up and tapped on her door, entering before he received approval from her.
“Abby-” he started, then stopped once he realized she was lying on her bed curled in a ball with her shoulders shaking, and crying. He stood poised on the brink of a decision-fight or flight; comfort or flee-but finally decided to go to her, and sat on the edge of her bed. “Abby,” he said again, touching her shoulder. “Abby, please don’t cry.”
She sat up at that, rubbing at her eyes and shaking, and flung her arms around him. “I don’t want you to go,” she sobbed. “I lost you once and I managed not to care so much because I hardly knew you, but now I care too much and I don’t want to be without you again...”
Richard held her close and rocked her back and forth, pressing his lips to her hair. “Come with me,” he said. “Come with me.”
She blinked at him through her tears. Her eyelashes were stuck together in small wet clumps; her eyes were bright and red-rimmed. “I can’t,” she whispered. “I can’t just-just leave.” A soft sound came from her throat, a mewling whimper of despair. “I don’t want you to go,” she said again, and curled back into him, shaking with tears.
“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice rough from speaking around the lump in his throat. He pressed her to him and longed to never let her go again. “Abby, I’m so sorry.”
On Monday Abby drove Richard to the airport. His bags were packed and waiting from the night before; when morning came they just put them in the car after drinking their coffee and headed to the terminal. They had an hour to kill after Richard checked in; he avoided the security checkpoint and instead hung around the main “lobby” of the airport with his girlfriend, unwilling to spend his last hour in Philly alone.
They sat quietly together, neither willing to say the words they didn’t want to hear; their fingers remained tangled together and Abby had her head on his shoulder. She sniffled from time to time but Richard pretended not to notice. The time passed slowly yet quickly all at once, and finally Richard looked at the clock and realized he needed to go to his gate or risk missing his flight.
“I have to go,” he said softly, the words breaking the little bubble of silence around them with an almost audible snap.
Abby’s grip tightened on his hand. “I know,” she whispered.
They stood and looked at each other awkwardly for a moment. Finally Richard opened his arms and she stepped into them, flinging her own arms around him and holding him tightly. She was trembling and he knew that she was on the edge of crying; he pulled away a little and kissed her hard, tasting tears on her skin.
“I love you,” he said fiercely into her ear. “I love you, Abby, and I’m not going to let you let me let you go.” He paused for a second, hoping that had come out right. She giggled wetly and clung to him all the tighter before finding his mouth again and kissing him almost desperately.
“I’m going to miss you,” she said, her voice muffled against the side of his neck. “I’m going to miss you so much.”
Slowly his arms slid from her waist, and hers unwound from around his neck, and they stepped away from each other.
“I’ll call you,” he promised, “as soon as I get settled.” He stepped forward again and pressed his mouth to hers; gently this time, lovingly. “I promise.”
Abby smiled weakly. “I love you,” she said simply, her hands twisting together in front of her. “Goodbye, Richard.”
“Goodbye, Abby,” he whispered, and shouldered his bag and walked away.
THE LAST PART!
Oh, God, my head... *winces*
Anyway - I'm going to put up this last section in 2 parts, because it's really long and I don't want to do that to y'all. Eheh. So here's part VI. Enjoy.
Richard didn’t tell Abby about what he and his mother had talked about. He’d never really been the overly-affectionate type in the first place; he couldn’t exactly picture himself just going up to his girlfriend and saying “My mother wants me to come back home to stay, and I used to want to do that too, but I think I’m in love with you and I don’t really know what to do.”
He didn’t think that conversation would end well, for either of them.
So he said nothing, as per the usual, and after another few days of lounging on the beach and tying up loose ends he and Abigayle flew back to Philly. He stayed at her apartment again, sleeping on an air-bed in her living room.
It was a little strange, because he didn’t have school anymore, and since he would (probably) be leaving the city for good he didn’t want to bother getting a job-what sane employer would hire a medical student for a week or two, anyway? Thus while Abby went to work every morning at seven, he would do very little for most of the day after rising early enough to make her coffee and grant her a few extra minutes of sleep. The forced inactivity of his days drove Richard a little batty, and it wasn’t long before he made his decision about what he was going to do.
They were eating dinner at a Japanese restaurant when he broke the news.
“I’m moving back home, Abby,” he announced as she was taking a bite of her yellowtail sashimi.
She put her chopsticks down, very carefully; swallowed, very carefully, and stared at him without batting an eyelash. If he hadn’t known her so well he would perhaps have thought that she had no reaction to his statement at all; only the slight quickening of the pulse at the base of her neck and her hands, wound tightly beneath the table where he theoretically could not see them, gave her game away.
“You are?” she said politely, as if they were discussing a game of golf. “When?”
“Abby, don’t,” he said pleadingly, and reached for her. The muscles in her arms tightened, but she brought one of her hands out from under the tablecloth and put it in his. “Don’t be like that.”
“Like what?” she snapped, suddenly almost angry, but without pulling her hand away. “What do you want me to say?”
“Something more than when, I was hoping,” he retorted-then he sighed. “I don’t want to fight with you, not right now. Would you believe me if I said I didn’t want to go, but I have to?”
“No,” she answered, sullen, looking away. “Then again I guess I shouldn’t have expected anything else of you. You’re always running away as soon as things take on even the slightest bit of seriousness.”
He stared at her. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” She didn’t meet his eyes, but her sulky look had turned to a pinched, defiant expression. “Abigayle, I’ve always meant to go back home after I finished school. I swear I’m not running away from you. If there were any other way I-I wouldn’t go, I mean it. My mother needs me home and I’ve always meant to go back! It has nothing to do with you or running from you. Look-you-”
He stopped, and gauged her expression. The glare had faded somewhat from her features; she was listening even though she still wasn’t looking at him. He took a breath and went on. “You’re what’s making me not want to go at all,” he whispered, rubbing his thumb over her knuckles. “If I didn’t have to go I wouldn’t. Believe me...” He looked at her, hard, willing her to believe him. “Believe me, Abby.”
She finally met his eyes. “Richard,” she said and it ended on a sigh, “I shouldn’t. But I do.” She glanced down at their hands and kept her gaze there. “I don’t want you to go,” she said quietly. “Does that make me a bad person?”
He gripped her hand tighter. “No,” he said emphatically. “No, it doesn’t. Abby, I don’t want this to be an ending of-of us.”
“Long distance relationships never work,” she murmured. “You know that.”
“That isn’t always true,” he said, almost fiercely. “It doesn’t have to be.”
She looked up, her eyes full of sadness. “I don’t want to fight,” she whispered. “When will you be leaving?”
“Next week,” he replied, equally as soft. “Next week as in, in a few days. Monday.” Abby closed her eyes and something in him hurt, a little. More than a little.
But he still couldn’t-still wouldn’t-say “the magic words”.
“Can we go now?” she asked in a small voice without opening her eyes. Richard nodded and let go of her hand to call the waiter over; he paid the bill and they went back to her apartment.
There wasn’t much talking on the way home. As soon as they got back Abby disappeared into her room and shut the door behind her. Richard was left sitting on the couch, feeling useless and helpless and worse than the worst kind of jerk. Finally he got up and tapped on her door, entering before he received approval from her.
“Abby-” he started, then stopped once he realized she was lying on her bed curled in a ball with her shoulders shaking, and crying. He stood poised on the brink of a decision-fight or flight; comfort or flee-but finally decided to go to her, and sat on the edge of her bed. “Abby,” he said again, touching her shoulder. “Abby, please don’t cry.”
She sat up at that, rubbing at her eyes and shaking, and flung her arms around him. “I don’t want you to go,” she sobbed. “I lost you once and I managed not to care so much because I hardly knew you, but now I care too much and I don’t want to be without you again...”
Richard held her close and rocked her back and forth, pressing his lips to her hair. “Come with me,” he said. “Come with me.”
She blinked at him through her tears. Her eyelashes were stuck together in small wet clumps; her eyes were bright and red-rimmed. “I can’t,” she whispered. “I can’t just-just leave.” A soft sound came from her throat, a mewling whimper of despair. “I don’t want you to go,” she said again, and curled back into him, shaking with tears.
“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice rough from speaking around the lump in his throat. He pressed her to him and longed to never let her go again. “Abby, I’m so sorry.”
On Monday Abby drove Richard to the airport. His bags were packed and waiting from the night before; when morning came they just put them in the car after drinking their coffee and headed to the terminal. They had an hour to kill after Richard checked in; he avoided the security checkpoint and instead hung around the main “lobby” of the airport with his girlfriend, unwilling to spend his last hour in Philly alone.
They sat quietly together, neither willing to say the words they didn’t want to hear; their fingers remained tangled together and Abby had her head on his shoulder. She sniffled from time to time but Richard pretended not to notice. The time passed slowly yet quickly all at once, and finally Richard looked at the clock and realized he needed to go to his gate or risk missing his flight.
“I have to go,” he said softly, the words breaking the little bubble of silence around them with an almost audible snap.
Abby’s grip tightened on his hand. “I know,” she whispered.
They stood and looked at each other awkwardly for a moment. Finally Richard opened his arms and she stepped into them, flinging her own arms around him and holding him tightly. She was trembling and he knew that she was on the edge of crying; he pulled away a little and kissed her hard, tasting tears on her skin.
“I love you,” he said fiercely into her ear. “I love you, Abby, and I’m not going to let you let me let you go.” He paused for a second, hoping that had come out right. She giggled wetly and clung to him all the tighter before finding his mouth again and kissing him almost desperately.
“I’m going to miss you,” she said, her voice muffled against the side of his neck. “I’m going to miss you so much.”
Slowly his arms slid from her waist, and hers unwound from around his neck, and they stepped away from each other.
“I’ll call you,” he promised, “as soon as I get settled.” He stepped forward again and pressed his mouth to hers; gently this time, lovingly. “I promise.”
Abby smiled weakly. “I love you,” she said simply, her hands twisting together in front of her. “Goodbye, Richard.”
“Goodbye, Abby,” he whispered, and shouldered his bag and walked away.
THE LAST PART!